


For Whom the Bell Tolls

by AbsinthexMind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Attraction, Break Up, Break Up Talk, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Discovery, F/F, F/M, Fear of Discovery, Forbidden Love, Girls Kissing, Longing, Love, Murder, Panic Attacks, Revenge, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Suspicions, Treason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-01-26 08:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21370921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsinthexMind/pseuds/AbsinthexMind
Summary: A glance and a sassy comment. The more time you two spent alone together, the less of a sister you became to one another. It wasn’t your intention to fall in love with the wife of your brother. You had never really felt bad about it when Maragery was married to Joffrey, but now that she was wed to your sweet Tommen. . . You couldn’t do that to your sweet lion.
Relationships: Margaery Tyrell/Reader, Tommen Baratheon/Margaery Tyrell
Kudos: 44





	For Whom the Bell Tolls

You caught her once again staring at you with such obvious flirtation in her glittering eyes that it took everything you had not to out right blush. She knew exactly what she was doing as Margaery’s smile expanded. Oh she was sweet, sure, but boy did she have a penchant for mischief. The more you got to know your twice good-sister, the more you saw. Margaery had her public personality and then her private one. Not even Tommen, her now husband, had gotten a peek of it. In the comforting silence of the gardens, you had been gifted that side of Margaery. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Telling her, you can’t help but glance at the two patrolling guards. Even in your own home you were still subjected to being monitored. Especially after the death of your brother Joffrey. Your mother grew ever paranoid that someone would go after you or Tommen next. Myrcella, having been sent to Dorne, was not of concern since she was safe and sound under the protection of the Martells. Cersei kept you and your brother close to her; never were her eyes too far from you. In fact you wouldn’t doubt if she was gazing from her balcony upon the garden right now at you and Margaery. There was obvious dislike for her. Even when she was engaged to Joffrey, your mother never had much love for her. She always warned you to be careful because she had an inkling that Margaery was in fact trying to advance the Tyrell name by becoming queen. 

Of course she was. Who else would want to marry Joffrey if it wasn’t for the prospect of becoming queen. Well, that is beside Sansa Stark. Poor girl had been utterly in love with him when she was a young girl. Sansa had to learn the hard way that Joffrey wasn’t the prince she thought he was. It took the execution of her father to figure that out. 

The day was beautiful, even so that the guards would agree as they passed by your canopy every so often, grateful that it was just the queen and princess they had to guard. An easy day for them. 

Margaery’s eyes flick back to her cards playfully. “What are you talking about?” Sunshine danced behind her, making her glow in its light. Many men had gone through the Red Keep, claiming that you and your mother were the great beauties in all of the Seven Kingdoms. They were all wrong. In actuality it was Margaery. No other woman could ever measure up to her. 

Putting your cards down on the stone mosaic table that stood between the two of you, you place your elbows on your knees and lean forward. “That thing you do where you think I’m not paying attention. Your eyes scream how desperate you are to kiss me.” 

A hand on her chest in a shocked fashion, she exclaims “My eyes? I’m most certain they do not scream that.” It was cute how she couldn’t even pretend to be shocked. Her real self bleeding out. 

You shrug. “Hm. I guess I was wrong. You don’t want to kiss me.” 

“Now hold on, I never said that.” 

That’s how your relationship had blossomed. A glance and a sassy comment. The more time you two spent alone together, the less of a sister you became to one another. It wasn’t your intention to fall in love with the wife of your brother. You had never really felt bad about it when Maragery was married to Joffrey, but now that she was wed to your sweet Tommen. . . You couldn’t do that to your sweet lion. Tommen had a puppy love for Margaery. If he were to find out about the two of you, it would destroy his gentle heart. Not only that but you could potentially be imprisoned if anyone else were to find out. 

The Tyrell Queen leans over to get closer to you. “Who wouldn’t want to partake in the delicacy that are your lips.” Her voice barely rose above the buzzing of the nearby bees. It was only meant for your ears. Margaery was always more bold than you. Her Queensguard was composed entirely of knights sworn to house Tyrell. She was always confident that none of them would tell a soul. Words were wind though and you never let your guard down, especially in front of her guards. 

Anxiety makes you lean away from her advances. Heat creeps up your neck as you frantically check to see if there was anyone around. “Please Margaery. . .” 

A little bit of her light dims, smile stalling before ever so slowly dipping down. “(y/n). You don’t have to worry.” 

“I do though. I have a lot to worry about. I told you we should be more careful. Things are different now that you’re married to Tommen. He’s not Joffrey. Nothing like him.” 

She closes her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I just. . . I forget. Having to see you after being apart. . . I just want to kiss you.” 

You fell back into your chair, heart constricting. “I want to kiss you too. But I can’t.” 

“I only married Tommen to stay close to you.” Margaery sits up, laughing a little despite her eyes becoming glossy. “I did this for us.” 

Tommen was leagues better than Joffrey ever was, but it didn’t change the fact that the two of you loved each other deeply. All the things that had happened since you met was because of your love. Neither you or Olenna could ever allow Margaery to stay married to Joffrey. Something had to be done with the tyrant, even if Margaery was fully capable of taking care of herself. Joffrey was a monster. He needed to be dealt with. 

You never questioned Olenna how she intended to get rid of your terrible brother. Even as you watched him suffocate to death, you forced yourself to watch without blinking an eye. Watched as his eyes bulged and face blooming purple. Deep down you felt shame for feeling no sorrow, no emotion, as Joffrey died. The only sadness you felt was for your mother. She had loved that beast fiercely despite how horrid he was. Cersei had always been blind to his atrocities. 

“I know.” Chimes that had been hung on your canopy, imported from Tyrosh, tinkle with the passing breeze. “I’m sorry it’s just, this time it’s different. I love you, but I love Tommen more. He’s my sweet lion. It would kill me if he ever found out and it broke his heart.” 

Your words pained Margaery as was clear with the flush to her cheeks and the tears that dripped from her eyes. Her full lips quiver. “I. . . I understand. . . He is a sweet boy. . . Can I get one last kiss?” 

Heart sobbing in your chest, you stiffly nod. 

Margaery gets up from her seat and drifts over to you like a ghost. She leans over you, beautiful chestnut hair kissing your face before her lips descended on you.  
**  
  


Fire blazed in her as Cersei found herself frozen on the spot. Rage consumed her as she stood witness to Margaery Tyrell kissing her eldest child, her daughter (y/n). Cersei wanted nothing more than to strangle the now Queen of Westeros. 

Now the tart was moving in on her daughter. Cersei wouldn’t let that go unpunished. 

Absentmindedly Cersei goes to touch her sheared blonde hair. Remembering the time she spent being tormented by Septa Unella. Betrayed by her own cousin Lancel. 

King’s Landing was full of snakes. From the moment the Golden Rose of High Garden set foot into the city, Cersei knew immediately that she didn’t like the beautiful maid that was to wed her first born son. Her son that was King of all the Seven Kingdoms. To make matters worse was the fact that Margaery had previously been wed to Renly Baratheon, the man that crowned himself king. An imposter. The moment he was killed, Margaery fled, on to her next victim. She should have never listened to Tywin that the Tyrell girl was the best bride for Joffrey. Looking at her now, Cersei was aware of what Margaery was after. Not too long ago Cersei had been much like her: wanting to be queen and stopping at nothing until her goal was reached. 

Sharply, Cersei turns on her heels and walked the other way; pretending that she had seen nothing. Margaery’s time was coming. She would regret the day she decided to meddle with Cersei’s family.  
  
**  
  


Unceremoniously you were thrown into your brother’s room, much to his own shock, by the Mountain. All you had tried to do was attend the trial of your mother and Margaery. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” Tommen demands. 

“This oaf won’t let me go to the trial.” You hiss and glare at Gregor Clegane. “It should be starting soon and people will notice if we are missing.” 

Pale brows scrunch up as your brother attempts to size up Ser Gregor but it’s obvious that he wouldn’t stand a chance. “Who put you up to this?” 

You pace over to the window that had a wonderful view of the city, including the Sept of Baelor. “Who do you think Tommen? There is no one else that he obeys but our mother.” 

Confusion was still plaguing him as he steps away from Gregor’s blocking form. “Why would she make him do this though? Is she going without us?” 

“I don’t know.” It confused you. Where was your mother? 

Even though Tommen was king, that little to persuade Gregor to move. Those haunting blood red eyes of his just stared without any focus. You still didn’t understand exactly how Qyburn had brought the brute of a man back to life. Seeing him die with your own eyes you had been quite shocked when your mother had showed up with him one day. It wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. Unholy and damned, you hated being around Ser Gregor. Every inch of your skin crawled whenever he was around. You dared not mess with him. 

Your little brother walks over to your side to look over the city. “I feel uneasy. . .” 

“Me too. . .” What else could either of you do? The Mountain blocked the only door and you weren’t about to scale down the Red Keep. That would have been insane. Your body disagreed as it itched to get out by any means possible. Cersei had purposefully kept you and Tommen from the sept. Why else would she have Gregor put you in Tommen’s room and stand guard. Moments like that made you find similarities between your mother and your late grandfather. Tywin Lannister had a magnificent mind that was always scheming for the sake of his family. Before his untimely death you had overheard him talking to Cersei about your marriage. How it would guarantee further support and allies. Who they had been planning to marry you off to, you never found out. All talk of marriage was snuffed out with his death. Compared to your uncles, your mother took after Tywin more than they did. She had aspirations and drive. Unwilling to give up on something once she had her mind set on it. And unwilling to forgive if she deemed that someone had done her wrong. Much wrong had been done to her recently at the hands of the High Sparrow. After spending weeks under their torture, she had come back to the Keep filthy, naked, and her once beautiful hair cut close to her scalp. They had done a number on her. For the first time your mother had cried in your arms when she saw you. 

Fear clicked as a thought entered. You knew your mother wasn’t the forgiving type. What if. . . what if she had plans for the High Sparrow and his ilk? And today was the day when she planned to play out her revenge? 

You found breathing to be difficult as panic settled into you and made your head warm and dizzy. It hurt. Vision grew blurry. 

“(y/n)? Are you okay?” You hear Tommen’s soft voice, filled with concern. 

“I don’t feel good.” You hold on to the windowsill, trying to steady yourself as you look away. 

Even though he was scared of the Mountain, Tommen turns his face to him. “Please. Get someone to help my sister.” 

Margaery. 

Margaery was in the sept. 

Waiting for you. 

“Please! Do something!” His voice quivered. For being king he lacked the power, the authority. Everyone knew all the power belonged to Cersei. 

Then you heard it. A far off deafening clash. 

Tommen freezes, his neck stiffly turning toward the window to see the distant plume of dark clouds that had enveloped what had once been the illustrious Sept of Baelor. The sept itself was crumbling down, being enveloped by the smoke and green flames. Gentle green eyes widen in absolute horror as he helplessly stares at the havoc. The screams of those caught near the crossfire drilled into your head as you struggled to gain control over your own body. 

The clanging of a broken bell echoed the breaking of your heart.


End file.
